Page 18 of Strings
“And do not apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong. The truth is, I don’t usually wear heels, so I’m slower than normal. But even if I were in flats, I think you’d still beat me in a race. Your speed is impressive!”
The elevator door opens and we step inside. Amy is smiling even brighter than before, and I feel that little twinge in my heart again. Who knew I had it in me?
When the doors open again, she leads me down a hallway where a desk sits in the middle of a room. There are chairs to the left, several closed doors, and a small conference room to the right. I place my bag on the desk. “This is great. Thank you.”
“Did you want me to hold that for you here? You have a hanger in your office, but I’d be happy to keep it at my desk if you want.”
“Your desk?” I ask.
She opens another door. “This is your office.”
I swallow hard as I take a step inside. My office? This is mine? The first thing I notice is the view out the window. The second is the ornate lamp on my desk.My desk. I’ve never had a desk in my life. Even when I was booking gigs for The Rabbit, I usually worked at the bar. I never had a place to sit.
I roll out the leather chair from the desk and sit down, running my fingers over the material then the smooth wood along the ridge of the desk. There’s a pen sitting on a binder that has my name on it. I lift the pen and read the writing on it. “Los Angeles Symphony.” I immediately stuff it into my bag. Technically, I guess it’s mine to use as I see fit. But since it’s getting added to my collection at home and not used at work, it feels like I need to be covert about it.
“Maintenance should be here any second now to put the name plate on your door. I figured we could go down to the hall while they’re here. I heard the orchestra has a meeting and might be practicing here today. Would you like to meet everyone?”
I nod. I’m still in awe and find it hard to speak. If my parents could see me now! I cringe. If my parents could see me, they’d want half of my check and be telling me how to scam my way into more money. I immediately push them out of my mind.
As we get closer to the orchestra room, I can hear the sounds of various instruments warming up.
“Oh, good. They haven’t started. There might be time to introduce you to the principals and their instruments.”
I stifle a laugh as I envision a room full of grade school principals with kazoos. She opens a set of double doors and I’m surprised by the enormity of the room. It’s more like a grand hall. Chairs full of people form a semi-circle around a podium. There must be at least ten people with violins, I count six cellos, and there are several other sections, each with at least five people with the same instrument. I try to remember the names of everything, but I can’t think. I make a mental note to research the players and learn more about them.
I recognize the clarinets right away, and I search for Cherese. She isn’t difficult to find since all the clarinets are together.
It’s nice to see a familiar face. She waves at me when she notices me, then speaks to a woman standing next to her with her back to me. Cherese points at me, and the woman turns in my direction.
It’s like slow motion. The first thing I notice is the flute in her hands. Then I see her long black hair as it whips in the air like a shampoo commercial. When I see her face, our eyes meet, and I feel as if I’m going to hurl. It can’t be. What in the hell is she doing here?
Her eyes leave mine frantically and she faces the front of the room. All of my senses leave me slowly. It’s hard to focus my eyes, and I’m certain I can’t hear. I see her mouth a name, and although I can make out what she says, my mind refuses to believe it’s true. I follow her line of sight as she calls out and he turns to see where Bella is pointing.
“Sebastian!”
Our eyes meet once again. Sebastian Corronov is not a surgeon in a hospital. He’s not a Russian Mobster either. He’s also not a random stranger on a plane that I’ll never see again. Iamseeing him again.
Isn’t L.A. like the fifth largest city in the United States or something? How can he be here? Am I imagining this? No, he’s standing right there, holding a violin and looking like he feels as sick as I do.
“That’s Sebastian Corronov,” Amy says when she notices we’re staring at each other. “He’s the principal concertmaster. He’s a legend. Youngest concertmaster in the history of the Sym. He’s a prodigy. A national treasure. We’re blessed to have him as First Violin.”
Blessed? I don’t feel blessed. I feel condemned. What did I tell him? My mind rushes through our conversation on the plane. Did I tell him who I was? Did I mention where I was from and what I left behind? Does he know too much? Did I just lose my job before I even started it?
The color drains from his face as we stare at each other. I say the only thing I can think of.
“Oh. My. Fucking. Fuck.” Then, the room goes dark.
Breakfast is the most important meal of the day because you could die before you eat lunch.
“I told her string cheese wasn’t enough for breakfast.”
I can hear voices and feel cool air in my face, but I still can’t see. Wait. I think my eyes are closed.
I slowly force them to open. Through the slits in my eyes, I recognize Cherese. Then I notice Amy fanning me with a piece of paper. Then I see Bella—ugh, Bella—and then him. He’s hovering over me now and right in front of my face. I guess I didn’t dream this after all. Bash is back. Who requested a sequel? It certainly wasn’t me.
“She’s okay. Everyone back to their seats, please. Give her some air.” Sebastian glances around the room before his eyes fall back onto mine. It’s then that I realize my head is cradled in his lap.
“Hi there,” he says with a grin.
